


E Pluribus Unum (Out of Many, One)

by sinchronicity



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alien Culture, Episode Related, Explorations of gender & sexuality, F/F, Fix-It, LGBTQ Themes, Mild Sexual Content, S4E23 "The Host"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:00:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinchronicity/pseuds/sinchronicity
Summary: Beverly Crusher fell in love with a man named Odan. That much was certain. Then he died, except that he didn't really; and he lived on in a new body, because that was the way of his people. Love is always more complex than it first seems.Initially uncomfortable with Odan's new host, Beverly finds herself still drawn, inexorably, towards her -- but can she find it in herself to accept that she's willing to risk getting hurt again in order to keep this new Odan?[Episode Rewrite / Fix-It / Exploration of the TNG episode, "The Host."]





	E Pluribus Unum (Out of Many, One)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the Star Trek 2019 Femslash Big Bang Challenge! I'm glad I participated and that it inspired to work on a story for a pairing that I'd enjoyed, but had not considered writing a fic for before. This episode plots some uncharted-for-Trek territory, but still falls short of what I wanted, so in the grand tradition of fic writers I've done my own version! 
> 
> The title is cribbed from what was, according to Memory Alpha, the working title of the episode.
> 
> An important note on the text: the host of Odan that Crusher first meets isn't given a first name in canon, but for readability's sake I've given him one: 'Lora.'

_(Perhaps it is a human failing, but we are not accustomed to these kinds of changes. I can’t keep up. How long will you have _this_ host?_

_What would the next one be? I can’t live with that kind of uncertainty._ _Perhaps...someday, our ability to love won’t be so limited.) -Beverly Crusher to Kareel Odan, TNG S04E23._

_ “You’ve been glowing!” _

Meeting Odan was joy incarnate. She couldn’t have known that, couldn’t have known how quickly things would spiral out of control, when she first met the Ambassador. He was handsome; she was only human, and she noticed. She liked handsome men and she liked kind men even better; Odan was both. They got on like a forest fire, bright and blazing. She wouldn’t have thought it could last, but the fire -- well, it was still _ fire_, but it stabilized, and she burned, even after one night together, and another night, and then another.

That wasn’t how Beverly did things. She’d loved before, many times, but she hadn’t been_ in love _ since -- well. Since Jack. There were other potential relationships, other potential loves, but they weren’t like how it was with Odan, where her hair stood on end, where her toes curled, where she bit at her lip until it hurt.

It was attraction. But it was something else too.

She sat in the spa, with some astringent over her eyelids -- she didn’t even know _ why_, but it did feel nice -- and she felt… _ thrilled_. Odan was thrilling, even when he wasn’t there; he was shared laughter and shared play, and she smiled underneath her pampering. For so long her body was a just a tool; it was still that, but the way he touched it, touched _ her _\--

A body could be a lot of things. 

Troi called her on it, of course. Hiding things from Deanna Troi was a fool’s errand, particularly when the things were, literally, feelings. The empath’s territory, and Deanna tread it with light footsteps, sharing her perceptions so casually. It had never bothered Beverly before, so there was probably something to be said about how she felt cornered when Deanna spoke to her in the spa. What was most damning of all was how her friend implied that it was obvious; Beverly blushed to think of it, because if she was being honest with herself she knew that it was true. She was acting in a way that was -- not _ unlike _ herself, in fact she felt very comfortable in her own skin, that was the _ point _ \-- but it was certainly unlike the way she usually acted around these particular people. Which begged the question: had she never let her hair down, over these long years on the Enterprise? 

She _ hadn’t_. It was fine; she wasn’t miserable or even unhappy -- it was just that she was no longer the dancing doctor, and no longer twenty-something years old, and no longer married to a man she loved. She had her work and her son and her friendships, and it was all very fulfilling.

She wasn’t looking for Odan. She just found him anyway.

Alone in her quarters, Beverly smiled, and slipped her coat off her shoulders, and had the replicator prepare her tea. She felt clean and fresh -- from the astringent or the conversation with Deanna or the fact that her shift was over, she didn’t know -- and she wanted to be _ touched_; she wanted to be _ wanted_. Odan could give her that. And he would. Her mind flashed to his cool eyes, calm nature, that he had carried so easily at their meeting. Turning down a transportation, she’d have to tease him for being old-fashioned. Underneath that calm lay a desire that burned so hot but that would never hurt her. She laughed aloud, suddenly, feeling like a character in a frivolous romance. She’d wait for him; her prince, her paramour. 

But they didn’t get another night together; the next thing she knew was not his touch, triumphant at reconciling two warring peoples. Instead, she had to sit on the bridge behind her Captain; feeling the weight of his eyes as he informed her that she had a medical emergency. She jogged her way down to the sickbay and felt detached from herself; all she could think was, _ It’s never a good idea to date a patient. _

And it_ wasn’t_. For a reason. Her steady surgeon’s hand did not shake as she ran the scanner over Odan’s abdomen for the nth time, hoping it would make sense -- but it was a close thing. She didn’t understand the reasons, and her mind was compiling information, making comparisons, and hazarding guesses -- few of them good.

But what she never expected was the truth. 

_ “What can I do?” _In that moment, with Odan suffering on the medbay cot in front of her, she was just so scared. He was dying, right in front of her; in pain. That such a vibrant young man could get so ill, so wounded, so suddenly, seemed impossible and horrible, but of course she was a Starfleet doctor, and she was used to that. She kept her cool. She did her job. And she saved the life of the man she loved. 

It wasn’t easy.

But then, nothing ever was. That was life. Beverly was an adult, and she knew that.

Things had been so _ easy _ with Odan.

Like Lora, the man that first contained Odan when she met, Will Riker was strong and young and healthy. A surgery like what she performed was entering well into the territory of the unknown, but Beverly was an explorer -- she’d entered there before. Not quite like that, perhaps, but she had. It was dangerous, and even a threat to Riker’s life -- but he volunteered, and she couldn’t have said no, given what was balanced on the knife edge that was Lora Odan’s mission.

She stood over his body, her surgical gloves still cupping her hands, and she simply didn’t know what to feel. She looked down and she saw Will, her friend, almost a younger brother of a sort. She didn’t see her lover, a man she’d known for really only a handful of days, but whom she felt so impossibly close to, all the same. 

“Will?” she said, tentatively; but it was Odan who answered. She should have been comforted -- that he survived, that he was well enough to speak, present enough to make sense -- but she just felt unnerved, as if she were far away from her body and unable to find her way back.

She tried, valiantly, to treat him as she would any patient. But even bearing in mind that his health is tied directly into the peace of another world, he was a hard man to deal with. He became “he” because “Odan” became too much to contemplate -- which was unfair, but she still felt it. He touched her hand while she scanned him, soft and gentle and intimate. She smiled at him, and pretended it didn’t half feel like an invasion. 

For Odan, this was just as disrupting. She _ knew _ that. He’d never had a reason to suspect that his parasitical status would matter, would be known; he was simply a Trill on a mission and the way that he was was his normal. She really did know that. 

“This is what I am,” he said, and she couldn’t say a single word against it; she of all people knew it to be true. He said he loved her; it was the first time either of them had spoken that aloud. Of course it was. And of course he volunteered to suppress his feelings, because he was kind, and he loved her, and that love might hurt her. Could he really let their relationship go? Beverly shuddered, because she couldn’t. She wanted to forget Odan because he hurt too much to love but she couldn’t do that either; in the moment, she just wanted his touch.

He didn’t want to hurt her, and she believed it when he said he didn’t intend to, would do what he could to relieve it. But she ached, to think of him. 

It was definitely the sort of thing people needed therapy about. Good thing she was friends with the ship’s counselor. 

She met Deanna in Ten Forward. It was the sort of night where she didn’t explicitly go looking for company, but all the same, she found it. Deanna was there, and she was kind and soft, and she knew what was going on. Her previous relationship with Will Riker prompted Beverly to believe she might be the one single person on the ship to understand the complexity of Beverly’s feelings; the depths of her hurt and hope.

“I loved Odan,” she said, and it felt like offering up her own heart. “I’m sure of it. I had no doubts, no fears.” 

She hurt, physically, a dull ache in her chest, as she tried to explain herself. If their love _ was _ so simple as a sexual, sensual, bodily connection, then it was over -- but she had shared everything with Odan; he had touched her body, but also her mind and her...soul, if such a thing could be said to exist.

If something of Odan carried on, well -- she _ wanted _ it. Yearned for it, yearned for _ him_, very deeply.

But of course there was also -- Will Riker. “This must be so strange for you, Deanna,” Beverly said. “I mean, we _ all _ know Will, of course, but you’re the one who knows him best.” 

Deanna laughed, lightly. “I suppose I am the only one of us with an _ intimate _ knowledge of the man.” 

“I didn’t mean -- ” 

Deanna smirked. “No, it’s alright, it’s true. I’ve never hidden the fact with Will and I were lovers, and as an empath, that means that, well, I am...very familiar with the sort of -- I don’t know, emotional landscape that Will possesses. I’m used to how he _ feels_.” She smiled a little. “Betazoid relationships are like that, even if Will isn’t empathic and I’m not a full telepath.”

“So when you see Will…” Crusher ventured.

Deana nodded. “I _ see _ Will...but I _ sense _ Odan, and honestly -- I grew up on Betazed, that _ sense _ is almost more important to me than what I see.” 

Beverly sighed. “You know, Deanna, this is one instance where I really wish I could say the same. But I just see Will! Is that short-sighted, human-centric, of me?”

Deanna smiled at her. “Maybe. But I think it’s only natural. You don’t have to be comfortable with this, and if Odan is the man you’ve described to me, he won’t attempt to force you to be.”

“Oh, he won't. I’m confident in that, at least. But Deanna…” she almost didn’t want to say what weighed on her so. It was _ embarrassing. _ This fling had turned out not to be a fling at all, and it made her feel all of fifteen years old, acne-spotted and anxious and _ longing_.

“Yes?” Deanna said, gently, and of course, she probably already know.

“I miss him,” Beverly said, because it really was as simple as that.

“Go to him,” Deanna said. “You don’t have to _ stay_.”

_ “Accept the love.” _

And so she went to him -- to Odan, in Will Riker’s body -- because she had too. He was there, and she wasn’t, and it felt wrong; so she rectified it by going to his quarters, making the complicated choice. 

The tension stretched between them like something physical and insurmountable. The air felt charged, electric, her hair stood on end. 

“I’m not leaving,” she had said, when he suggested it, and then she let him kiss her; she kissed him back, she wrapped her surgeon’s hands around his broad shoulders.

But that felt wrong too, and now she was in some sort of strange limbo. She was thinking of what Deanna had said to her, and what she had decided -- to give Odan another chance at her heart -- but the truth of it was that she was familiar with the feeling of this limbo; it was called doubt, and uncertainty, and of course she’d felt it quite often as a young woman. Finding the love of your life could make one forget all the uncertainties of lust-turned-love, but the thing was she’d lost Jack and here she was, doing this all over again.

“Doctor Beverly,” Odan said, and he sounded just like Will Riker because they were Riker’s vocal chords he was borrowing, “I truly didn’t mean to pressure you…”

“You didn’t,” Beverly sighed. She sat down on his bed -- without asking, because even now in this awkward moment she knew she was welcome in his space. Had this _ always _ been so hard? Well, yes, of course it had…

Odan was watching her with those wide blue eyes, and she missed the handsome brown. “The kiss was strange for you,” he said, voice soft. He sat down beside her, angling his body so that he was half-facing her, but not quite meeting her eyes. He was giving her space. “I understand that. It’s strange for me too, you know. This body isn’t _ mine _ \-- I’ve never been human before, obviously, because no one -- no Trill, I mean _ , _ ever has --” He paused and laughed, at the frustration of telling it.

“The bond of a host and a symbiont...when I was Lora, _ I was Lora _ \-- we were one being, I was one being; a whole body-and-mind to fit into. He was mine and I was his, and we were one.” 

All of a sudden it struck her as very sad. “And now you’re alone.” 

He smiled, a sad smile on Riker’s face. “And now I’m alone.” 

“I’m unimaginably grateful to Commander Riker -- after all, he’s half the team that saved my life.” His eyes flicked up to her, because of course she was the other half. “But I don’t know him particularly well…he is not part of my mind, my being-hood. I don’t even know why he did it!”

Beverly smiled at that. “Will Riker is very committed to protecting everyone under his care. He’s known for it.” 

Odan smiled again on his borrowed face. “‘I’m so grateful, and I want to protect him too, in lieu of a bond.” He reached between them, and took her hands into Riker’s.

“So you see,” he said. “It’s uncomfortable for me, too. Now that you’ve seen _ me _ , I want to be able to say, ‘This is who I am, Beverly, can you accept it?’ But it’s only partly true. _ This _ isn’t who I am! I’m on borrowed time in a borrowed body.” The upturn of his mouth went maudlin or at least, thoughtful. “So I understand if you don’t want to stay the night, Beverly.” 

“I…” Beverly said, and then realized she had no idea how that sentence was going to end. She stopped, bit her lip. Odan calmly sat next to her, waiting. 

“I can’t pretend it’s like it was before,” she said, finally. “Or that I’m comfortable with this, even. I’m not! But…”

“But?”

She smiled, and turned towards him, letting herself meet the familiar blue eyes. “But I meant it when I said I’m not leaving. I…” there was still a shyness in her voice, but she felt better knowing how vulnerable a moment this was for him as well. “I don’t know. Can we spend the night together, just --” Because if they didn’t she’d miss him; she’d be lonely; her bed would feel cold; she’d worry about him.

“I’d really love that,” Odan said, and he barely sounded like Will Riker when he spoke it in that low whisper.

He pulled her into his arms, and she pressed her cheek up against his broad chest, her hand drifting to his abdomen, the site of the surgery where she made him, where she saved her lover’s life. No trace of that. He was healthy, and fit -- for now. Odan leaned his chin against the top of her head, and she felt the prick of his beard against her forehead. She’d never liked bearded men. She still didn’t, and it was such a petty thought that she laughed a little against his chest. He didn’t ask her why, just stroked her hair, rubbed at her shoulders. She closed her eyes, and pretended it was different hands that touched her. 

When Odan saved the future of two warring peoples and then collapsed to the floor in Riker’s battered body -- Beverly had no time for complicated feelings. There was only the intensity of work, that familiar stress of medicine. Once everyone was as stable as she could make them, the manic energy faded, and she was tired and afraid. She couldn’t bare to leave Odan alone, that he might die without company and without a host body was too awful.

“I’ll wait,” she told Jean-Luc. _ I’ll wait for him. _

She didn’t remember falling asleep, so waking was disorienting; her head felt stuffed, and she was still exhausted. She felt shaky when she told Worf to sent the new host in, but she knew her hands would be steady, her incisions clean, when she opened up his body for the person she was in love with.

And then -- 

Well. Kareel Odan walked in the door. Her expression was serious; almost solemn, and she was ready.

Beverly wasn’t. But her hands were still steady.

It was Deanna who saved her, once again. Her wonderful, perceptive friend, who had celebrated her happiness and reached out her hand when Beverly was hurting, was terrified. She suspected her tumultuous mood must be obvious to everyone, empath or not, and it did sort of feel like half the crew was avoiding her.

But not Deanna. Not lovely Deanna, who knocked gently on the wall of her office, where Beverly was still composing her report on Odan’s surgery and definitely not hiding or stalling.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Deanna said with a gentle smile. “This is twice now you’ve saved Odan’s life; I’m sure she and the Trill people are both very grateful.” 

“Yes, it was a complete success.” Beverly was grateful for the reminder, and it was true that there was a spark in her core that was simply purely happy, because Odan was alive and safe.

“But it’s another big change, of course. May I sit?” Beverly gestured to a chair in the corner, and Deanna pulled it forward so that they were facing each other. “First Will, and now this. It’s a lot to take in. Perhaps Trill are accustomed to it, but we humans aren’t so much.”

“Deanna,” Beverly said, sitting her paperwork down at last. “I haven’t even _ said _ what’s bothering me and you’re already trying to fix it!”

Deanna laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m still in counselor mode. But honestly, Beverly, I’m not trying to fix anything. I just want you to let yourself feel your feelings. I can sense how tangled up you are -- it seems painful.”

Beverly pursed her lips. “It is,” she acknowledged, because it was. Here she was, hurting yet again, because of this love -- but the hurt was warring with the part of her heart that was dancing because Odan still loved her, and Odan had still taken her arm so gently, and Beverly had still felt her warmth, and her breath had still quickened. 

“God, Deanna,” she said “I’m so..._ tired_. How much am I supposed to take? I just fell in love with a handsome man. I never expected this.” 

“Life is never predictable. And neither is love.”

“I _ know_. But I just want to run away from it all.”

Deanna leaned forward, her eyes serious. “If that’s what you want -- do it. Odan won’t pursue you if you’re not interested, will she?”

“No -- no.” There was no danger in that at least. “She wouldn’t. She’s too -- gentlemanly.” Beverly laughed, helplessly.

Deanna smiled, and stayed quiet. She was waiting her out, letting Beverly try to sense of her own emotions, and she appreciated that space.

“I don’t…” Beverly said, feeling adrift. “The truth is that none of this is what I wanted. I was expecting a simple fun night between new friends, and I wasn’t expecting to be so committed.” Her heart raced in her chest, she could feel it. “I didn’t...I never expected him to almost die, and to have to save him.” 

“It’s been stressful,” Deanna agreed, nodding. “That’s a lot of tension for a relationship to handle, especially a new relationship.”

“But the thing is,” Beverly said, trying to explain, “I _ did _handle it. I’m handling it right now. But I --” she paused, gritted her teeth. “I could deal with him in Riker’s body, too, because it was always only temporary. So you have to tell me -- is it absurd that what upsets me is that I wasn’t expecting to fall in love with a woman?” 

Deanna paused, thinking it over. “No,” she said, finally. “I don’t think any reaction to such a complex situation is absurd, really.” 

“It’s just I -- thought I knew what I liked. I thought I knew what I wanted and what I’d get.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you like.”

“Right,” Beverly said, somewhat desperately. “But.” She cut herself off, abruptly.

Deanna raised an eyebrow. After a beat of silence she said, gently, “You said that you were falling in love with her.” 

“Yes,” Beverly acknowledged. “It’s like...it’s like…oh, hell. It’s _ not _ like anything I’ve ever experienced before. But I still miss Odan! And she’s still here…how can I just ignore that?”

“You don’t have to. It’s okay to let yourself explore, Beverly.” 

She nodded. She knew, though, that her deepest fear wasn’t the exploration at all.

“What if,” Beverly said, almost tripping over the words, “what if this _ is _love? I don’t know...I don’t know if I can stand it if it doesn’t work out.”

Deanna sighed, and Beverly lifted her suddenly shy gaze to look her in the eyes.

“Oh, Beverly,” Deanna said, smiling. “Love _ can _be risky, I won’t give you some kind lie and say that it isn't. It can hurt, it can tear us to shreds. But -- speaking as your friend -- I think you already know what you’ve decided.”

Beverly licked her lips. “I’m going to go to her,” she said, because it was true. It was an inevitability; Odan lived, so Beverly would go to her.

“I have no idea if it’ll work out,” she confessed, desperate, “but if I don’t _ try _ \--” 

“If you don’t try,” Deanna said, “you'll regret it for a long time."

“Exactly,” Beverly said.

Deanna smiled at her, a great big happy smile, and then she did something that surprised Beverly; she stood up and spread her arms, as if for a hug. Laughing a little in surprise, Beverly let herself stand up, and meet Deanna where she was, wrapping her arms around her.

It was a very human gesture, and a sweet one. Beverly wouldn’t have expected herself to hold on so tight, to press her nose into Deanna’s hair and try to drink in her warmth -- but she did. 

“I can tell how excited you are,” Deanna murmured, and -- _ yes_, there it was, below the nervousness was joy, and longing, and hope. 

“You’re my friend,” Deanna said, plainly. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” She was parroting Beverly’s own fears back at her; clever Counselor. 

“Love is risk,” Beverly said once again, and she believed it this time, too. “Especially when aliens are involved.” 

“Yes,” Deanna said, and her eyes looked a little watery; because of course Deanna had also once loved a man from beyond the stars, a man with kind eyes and a gentle smile. A man who died and left Deanna’s mother all alone.

“I’ll take the risk,” Beverly said.

_ “I do love you.” _

Beverly rounded the familiar corridors that would take her to Odan’s quarters and thought about how she didn’t know _ what _ to think. It had been easy enough to brush Odan off in her office; her uniform and her shift hours were a welcome barrier from dealing with her feelings. In fact she was still wearing the uniform, because she couldn’t bear to lose that shield just yet, even when she was trying to be brave.

She stood outside his -- God. _ Get it together, Beverly, Lora has been dead for days_. She stood outside her door, and had to work up to asking to be let in. 

Kareel Odan’s voice -- her low and lovely voice -- told her to enter, so she did. 

“Hello,” Beverly said, stepping inside, and winced at how awkward she sounded.

“Hi,” said Odan, and she sounded equally as shy, so that was reassuring. She was sitting on her bed, and combing out her hair. It was similar in length to Lora’s, but lighter; Beverly thought, _ Does she like that style on every host? _

“I just thought,” Beverly said, struggling to keep her tone light. She paused, unsure of what she was even nervous of, “that we should talk.”

“Of course,” Odan said, voice carefully light. “Doctor Beverly, I -- “

“Wait,” said Beverly, sharply. “If you’re going to apologize, don’t. I really came here to say that -- oh. I don’t know. But despite my fears, my worries, I think I want…” It was nearly too hard to say. But not quite; she could get her words out around it, somehow. “Odan, I…think I want to try.”

“To try?”

“To try again. At our relationship.”

There was something -- a bright spark, a glint of light, in Odan’s eyes as she -- what? Regained hope in the possibility of _ them?_

“Do you want that?” Beverly asked, because she needed confirmation.

“Oh,” said Odan, and she never looked away; her gaze never wavered. “I do, Beverly. I would cherish the chance.”

“Alright, then,” Beverly said, feeling emboldened. “Impress me. Make me want to stay.” She was already half-there, of course; they both knew that.

“Hm,” hummed Odan, to herself. She was only wearing the robe and some briefs underneath it; and at that prompting she slipped the robe down over her shoulders, so that her chest was exposed, her breasts vulnerable in the soft light of her quarters. “Surely you can be tempted.”

Beverly laughed, with an ease that surprised her. “I’m not sure that’s what I meant.”

Odan smiled back at her, clutching the opening of her robe in her fist so that the sight of her cleavage temporarily vanished from Beverly’s sight.

“I know,” Odan said. “Just teasing. I really don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Despite her not-so-subtle seduction, she was still on her bed; she had planted herself half a room away from Beverly and despite the tension in the air this amused her -- Odan had been dramatic in love and she was being dramatic in distance. In an ironic twist it made this new Odan feel closer, more like the previous selves that Beverly had known. 

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” Beverly said. “Look, I’m sorry. I panicked before; it’s hard to consider romance with a patient, and you very nearly died.”

Odan cocked her head to the side a little; her hair falling gently over her forehead as she did. There was a bit of dissonance there -- she wore her hair loose instead of the heavy styling that Lora had worn. It was pretty; Kareel’s beauty was more carefree, less sculpted, but Beverly had still noticed it when she arrived, was noticing it again now.

“It’s not…” Odan said, then hesitated. Would her previous hosts have hesitated? She didn’t think Lora Odan would have. But then, he knew where he stood with her, and with everyone. How long did the being that was Odan have to sit in a body before she felt comfortable in it, _ truly _ comfortable? 

“I don’t want you to feel that you have to be comfortable with me,” Odan said. Softly, consolingly. It felt strange to hear, from her. When Odan was in Will Riker’s body, the distancing made sense, was automatic. But she really _ was _ looking at Odan now, not anyone else, and Beverly found that some part of her really did want to be romanced, to be swept off her feet.

“I don’t _ want _ to _ be _ uncomfortable around you,” she said, frustrated, and Odan raised her head to look her in the eye. Her loose hair fell in cascades, framing her face. 

“So why are you?” Odan said, gently.

“I don’t know,” Beverly said. “Because I’ve never loved anyone like you, I suppose. Because I’ve never made love to a woman, and I don’t know whether I want to.” 

“That’s alright,” Odan said, “We don’t have to make love.” 

“But this isn’t --” God, Beverly didn’t even know what she was arguing for. “This isn’t like when you were in Riker’s body; this _ is _ who you are!” 

Kareel Odan smiled another of her sad smiles. “Yes, it is. But our relationship was important to me beyond sex, and even beyond…I don’t know. Romance, I suppose.” She tilted her chin down; a shy, submissive gesture that seemed out of place. “I am in love with you...I don’t know how not to be. I’m sorry. But my offer to suppress those feelings stands, if you’d be more comfortable with friendship.”

“The thing is,” Beverly said, slowly, because she was just realizing it herself, “I don’t think I _ would _ be more comfortable with that.” 

“Oh,” Odan said, and something shuttered in her eyes. “So -- is this truly going to be good-bye, then, Doctor Beverly?”

Her heart felt fit to bursting at the thought. “No, it’s not. It’s the opposite of that.” 

Odan responded almost immediately, as if she’d been waiting for the answer. “You’re willing to --”

“Like I said before, I’m willing to try,” Beverly said, shortly. “I’m not -- I can’t commit long-term; we both would have to make so many sacrifices to reach that. But I want to explore; explore our relationship and the possibilities it brings once again.”

“I understand,” Odan said softly, and the genuine smile that graced her face as she said it showed Beverly that she really did.

For a moment, Beverly pressed her eyes closed, let herself savor it. There were so many possibilities spread out in front of them -- probably some of them _ did _ end in heartbreak, but then again, Beverly was a grown woman. She could handle it.

And there were _ other _ possibilities too.

“Beverly?” Odan’s voice called her back to the present, and she opened her eyes. Odan was leaned forward in her concern, and her robe had fallen open. Her hand was draped across her stomach, and modern medicine was something else, wasn’t it? For there was no scar where the parasite that Odan was had been implanted in this woman.

There _ was _ a little line of hair dipping down into her undergarments. Beverly wanted very much to touch it, follow it to its inevitable end hidden under those small briefs -- but her feet were still rooted firmly to the ground.

But her eyes weren’t rooted, her eyes were free. She let them roam over the figure in front of her. Beverly had been one to find her own body type particularly attractive, and thus had never slept with someone who looked to similar to herself. Kareel was a little shorter than she was, and a little fleshier, with different coloration. Between her legs, what did she look like? Would it -- would it feel the same as when Beverly touched herself? 

She had loved the _ distance _ between Lora Odan and herself; eroticized it even; his strong hands on her slim shoulders, but mostly the way his body, so different from hers, had fit so easily, and felt so good. She was well aware that sex was versatile, that there were a million different ways to touch and be touched, but she still felt out of her depth. Did she dare learn? 

There came that question again, the one that kept floating to the front of her mind, because she knew that she _ did _ love Odan, but: _ What was it about him that I loved? _She still didn’t have an answer, but God, who cares? Her face was heated; she knew she was blushing, that Odan could probably see it. Beverly was willing to learn. To try. To taste new flesh, for a second time. 

“It is alright if I just -- touch you?” She took a step closer, her footfall light on the carpeted floor. “I think -- that’s all I want to do, right now.” 

“Of course,” Odan said, soft. She sat still and proud, so connected with her brand-new body. Was this strange for her too? Or was it merely a relief to be back into a Trill body again, healthy and whole?

Cautiously Beverly reached down and coaxed the boots off her feet. She didn’t want to undress -- her own clothes a welcome barrier between them, for now at least, but there was no need to be _ formal_, that felt absurd. She slipped off her lab coat, folding it over the top of a chair.

“You’re not leaving the coat?” Odan said, in mock-disappointment, and Beverly couldn’t help but let out a grateful laugh. 

“Oh, please. We can roleplay doctor-patient some other time.” She was taken aback by the implied promise in her voice there, but that was _ was _ what she’d decided on, wasn’t it? The hope for more chances to try, a potential future. The idea of it hung between them; Beverly knew from the way Odan was smiling at her all sweet and understanding, that she was thinking the same thing.

“I won’t hold you to that,” Odan said, as Beverly stepped forward again, closing the physical gap between them if not the emotional one. Odan looked up to meet her eyes, and Beverly didn’t look away, didn’t want to.

“Hello,” Odan said, needlessly and happily. 

Beverly raised a hand to touch her, and a shiver visibly ran through Odan’s body, like she was tensing for it. So she _ was _ affected too, that was good to know. 

Beverly pressed her fingertips to Kareel’s collarbone. It felt like any other collarbone; the core’s warmth curled up under the flesh and the bend of bone. She flattened her palm down against Odan’s chest, and felt the steady thump of her heart, too.

“Checking my vitals?”

_ Thu-thump. Thu-thump. _ “I said no playing doctor,” Beverly said, after a long breathless moment where she couldn’t think.

“You’re right, of course,” Odan said, and her voice was short of breath too. “Oh, Beverly, I wanted this -- the heat of this -- gods, to imagine I once thought you were _ cold _\--”

Beverly’s heart was jack-hammering in her chest. Through her hand she could feel the increase in Odan’s too. 

“I _ was _ cold,” Beverly said. “Or -- closed off, at least. I wasn’t _ open. _”

“You don’t have to be open,” Odan said -- gasped, like Beverly was touching a lot more than her collarbone. “But -- I’m glad you were? You were _ so _ open with me, Beverly.” She bucks, involuntarily, against Beverly’s hand, and without thinking, Beverly’s gaze dropped to between her legs. Was Odan aroused? Her nipples stood on end. Clearly she _ was_. Aching for it. Beneath her proper Starfleet uniform, there was pressure building in Beverly’s, too; silently, she flexed the muscles in her thighs, shifted in her stance.

Odan’s eyes flickered. Surely she knew, surely she was keenly aware, surely it was screamingly _ obvious _ , but Odan was still oh-so-gentle, holding herself back to _ protect _ Beverly, to be kind.

It was appreciated. Of course it was, and genuinely, _ genuinely _ so. But Beverly wished also that Odan would reach her hand forward to touch, that the onus of desire would be lifted clean off of Beverly’s shoulders. 

Beverly breathed out, as slow and steady as she could manage. It felt ragged, all the same. 

“May I kiss you?” Odan said, into the tension of the room.

“Yes,” Beverly said, “Yes, _ please _\-- ” 

Odan grabbed at her hand, desperately, and pressed her mouth to Beverly’s wrist, pressing into Beverly’s pulse-point, the beat of her heart. Beverly felt the sweet heat of it for a moment, then gasped, groaned, tore her hand away. 

“Not _there,_” she said in exasperation and pure joy, and she leaned down, kissed Odan squarely on the mouth.

Her mouth was warm, wet, soft. _ Sweet_. Kissing Kareel Odan was a lot like kissing Lora Odan, really, and it was vastly superior to kissing Will Riker with Odan inside him. She didn’t recoil, and she didn’t feel conflicted. She felt _ desire_, shooting through her like a lightning bolt. 

She opened her mouth to the kiss and the heat blossomed, unfolding in a thousand rippling waves, and Beverly groaned into Odan’s mouth. Odan laughed, her hand reaching up to tug at her chin, pull her close even though they couldn’t _ get _ much closer than this. There was tongue and mouth and teeth and _ want, want, want. _

Beverly’s hands grasped at Odan’s shoulders, then slid down her arms, then cupped at the precious hands which were both unknown and known. 

“I told you, I _ know _ what I want,” Beverly said, frustrated.

“I’m just afraid that you don’t!” Odan was wide-eyed beneath her, her breath quickened but her words steady. “Beverly, this is new --”

“Everything’s only new once,” Beverly said. “Oh, don’t make me -- use some pithy little quote. I know you’re trying to protect me, and I appreciate it, but --”

But she was _ aroused. _ Her body was on edge, the unmistakable pressure between her legs that made her bite her lips, rub her thighs together.

“You want me,” Odan said, wonderingly.

“Of course I want you,” Beverly said. “I don’t think I ever really _ stopped _ \--” she shoved Odan back down on the bed. “Let me touch you.”

“I wasn’t expecting this kind of touch,” Odan said. Her lip quivered, ever-so-slightly. “Not so soon at least -- “

“I had you in my bed the day after we met,” Beverly whispered.

“I missed you,” Odan said, and her eyes fluttered shut, like she was overwhelmed.

“Me too,” Beverly said. “Both of us...aching for each other. That’s…that’s fixable.” Even if other things weren’t, they had _ this. _

Beverly breathed in, sharply, the desire under her skin sparking like electricity. She reached underneath Odan’s robe and slid her hand up her inner thigh.

“Oh!” it came out of Odan like a gasp. She was sensitive there, and on her stomach, or at least Lora had been -- time to relearn this, relearn everything. It was daunting, it was something Beverly knew she couldn’t turn back from -- but she _ wanted_. She slid her hand up, and listened to the new sounds Odan made.

_ “You saved my life, Doctor Beverly,” Odan said, as she pressed desperate kisses into the curve of Beverly’s neck. “You kept your word -- did what was right -- perhaps over even you own heart? It means so much. _ Thank you_.” _

_ It was so like her to be so sincere even within the throes of passion. Beverly could barely speak, her naked flesh against Odan’s body feeling hot as flames. _

_ “I -- “ she said “-- how could I not?” She’d be lost without this. _

_ Odan laughed, and tilted her fingers just right, and Beverly gave up on speech. _

She’d never had sex for the first time with the same person twice. It was -- _it was --_

It was like that first wild, burning night with Lora Odan, when she’d touched him in all the right places to make him moan, when he’d turned her words to cries and made her back arch. Except this was even better, because they knew this wasn’t a fluke or a one-time experience between friends and colleagues -- they had the previous gift of _ time_. She hadn’t had sex with a _ lover _ since Jack had died.

It was -- well. It was good. When they wore themselves out, bodies well-pleasured, she curled up tight against Odan like she had to Lora, to Will RIker. She fit better with Kareel.

They awoke around the same time -- whenever that was. Beverly was lost in the haze of her feelings, feeling overwhelmed the moment she regained consciousness. She was happy, very happy, but it was strange, because there was pressure behind her eyes and there was a strange foreign wetness on her cheeks. She was crying -- God, why was she crying?

“Odan,” she said, softly, not turning to look at her. “It’s horrible, but I think I’m really falling in love with you.”

Odan had been lying quietly beside her, but she spoke aloud at that. “Why is that horrible?”

“Because, I haven’t felt this way since Jack,” she said and -- oh, it was hard to say. “I mean, there were other men. Before, of course, and after, who if I let myself fall for them, I would. But it’s too hard. Too dangerous. I have a career, and a son, and memories of a man who’s passed.” 

Odan moved forward on the bed slowly, giving Beverly time to pull away if she wanted, although they both found that she didn’t.

“I haven’t loved like this in lifetimes,” Odan said, and she curled her body close to Beverly until they mirrored each other like twin parentheses. “Literally. I thought I was -- as they say -- married to my work. Odan -- all of us who are and have been Odan -- we are lovers, but we burn hot and bright, and flame out in a glorious short moment.” 

She tucked her head close to Beverly’s chest, her hand dancing nervously down to cup Beverly’s elbows and forearms. Nervousness now, between them? But of course that was what Odan was saying.

“We make love freely,” she said. “Letting someone in is much harder. I’m a busy woman, you know.”

It was so sweet, but so silly, like something out of a romance holo-novel. Beverly loved it, and she laughed. “Are you trying to tell me that you only ever meant to seduce me, but now you’re falling in love with me, too?” 

Odan laughed with her; she could feel the vibrations of it against her chest. 

“I don’t know!” Odan raised her head so that they could look at each other, watch the words as well as hear them. “I guess! Isn’t it obvious that was what was happening, anyway?”

“No,” Beverly said, dryly, “You were as subtle as a sonic scalpel.” And with that, she kissed her. Not the violent, desperate kisses like they’d had already; now they were just warm; two friends meeting and so caught up in the joy of it that they _ have _ to touch, mouth-to-mouth. A kiss that promised a thousand other kisses.

Beverly pulled away, abruptly, sat up on the bed. Her hair, still sweat-soaked and tangled, fell in front of her eyes; she swept it away. “The two of us -- it’s ridiculous. Absurd, even. Possibly it breaks a Starfleet regulation or two. Certainly it’s a new play on Doctor-patient confidentiality --”

Odan was laughing, quietly, as she rose to sit opposite of Beverly.

“Oh,” she said, when Beverly paused for breath, “Is that all?” 

“No!” Beverly cried, tossing her hands in the air, aware that she was sounding near-hysterics. “There’s a thousand more reasons besides, honestly.” 

“Tell you what,” Odan said slyly, leaning forward. “I won’t tell Starfleet, if you agree to not tell the Trill High Council?”

“What --” and, Oh _ God_, that was a whole angle she’d barely explored, that Odan being an alien meant a whole alien government as well -- 

“Are they -- would they disapprove --” 

“Bev-er-ly,” Odan laughed, grabbing at her wrists again, sounding out her name like it was the first time she’d said it. “My dear, sweet, Doctor Beverly -- _ it’s fine _. It’s all going to be fine.” She lifted her wrist for another pulse-point kiss. 

“You don’t _ know _that,” Beverly said, helplessly. “What if it isn’t?”

Odan shrugged, causing Beverly to splutter at her. “I don’t know,” she said. “Then it isn’t. We’re both pretty clever, perhaps we’d figure something out. Or we wouldn’t, and we’d go our separate ways, but _ gods, _ at least we’d have tried? Surely that counts for something?”

“Oh, very romantic!” Goddammit. It was so easy to buy her with those pulse-point kisses; Odan’s mouth on the life-giving beat of her heart. “But not very practical,” she said, shortly. 

“You weren’t being _ practical, _those first nights.”

“No,” she said, everything in her begging Odan to understand. “And -- Odan -- the tears I’ve cried over you --”

“I know,” Odan said. She was rubbing little circles into Beverly’s wrists, rhythmic and comforting. “I cried with you, Beverly, or didn’t you know that? In Will Riker’s body, I wept, because I thought I might die, and I was terrified of everything that was attached to that.”

“Then you know why I’m afraid.”

“Yes. But love is always dangerous.” 

Beverly sighed. “That sounds just like something a friend of mine told me, not so long ago.”

“Sounds like a good friend.”

“She is.” Beverly twisted her hands so that she was the gripping Odan at her pulse points, instead of the other way around. She pressed at Odan’s wrists with her thumbs. _ Vitals steady. _

“This friend also told me that joy looks good on me. That maybe I should let my head follow my heart.”

“And what does your heart say?”

“My heart says, ‘Shut the hell up, Bev, and accept the love.’”

Odan laughed. She had been looking down at their joined hands, but at that she looked up, and Beverly could see the sparkle of joy in her eyes. _ Accept the love and you accept the joy. _

Odan’s eyes crinkled up as she smiled. “You can complain the whole way through, if you like. I won’t mind.” 

“Hmph,” said Beverly, “Watch me hold you to that.” But she leaned in and kissed Odan, all the same. The kiss tasted like warmth and that well-loved mouth, and like new beginnings. 

_fin_

**Author's Note:**

> The difficulty in writing Odan is in that the Trill lore in this episode quite frankly just does not match up very neatly with the lore in DS9 -- even beyond the obvious stuff like “their designs are literally completely different”, lol. I...tried, and ended up with my own headcanons about Odan and why she may be different from mainstream Trill society, but in the end, I just hope it works within the story itself, and wasn’t too jarring!


End file.
